


Blood-slick

by this_wayward_life



Series: Kinktober 2020 [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Torture, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Cunnilingus, Cutting, Eventual Happy Ending, Extremely Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, Knotting, Like extremely unsafe, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Omega Bucky Barnes, Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers, Unsafe Sex, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26944744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_wayward_life/pseuds/this_wayward_life
Summary: Steve is captured by the Winter Soldier.----Day 10 - Knife Kink
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Kinktober 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951222
Comments: 15
Kudos: 224





	Blood-slick

**Author's Note:**

> Holy fuck, this might be my favourite one yet. It is very fucked up, though, so proceed with caution.
> 
> As a heads up, Bucky doesn't have typically "male" anatomy, and instead has something similar to a transgender man on testosterone (female anatomy with enlarged labia and clit). I am 100% basing male omega genitals on testosterone-using transgender men such as myself.
> 
> Again, there is dubious consent in this fic, which is why I tagged it as "choose not to warn", since it technically isn't non-con as both parties _are_ consenting, but neither are really in their right mind.

Steve wakes to darkness. The chair he's sitting on is hard and cold, and his hands are restrained behind the back of the chair in what feels like metal cuffs. The same cuffs circle his ankles, keeping them tied to the legs of the chair. Steve blinks the spots out of his eyes and feels his head roll to the side, a spike of pain shooting through his temple. The cuffs are tight, and strong enough that he can't break them, no matter how much he strains. He realises that he's not blindfolded, and instead is in a room so dark that it seems to suck the warmth from its inhabitants. 

Steve shivers, giving another half-hearted attempt to escape his restraints. He's wearing nothing but sweats and a T-shirt, his feet bare, and even though Steve runs considerably hotter than a normal person, he can't bear the unrelenting chill in the room. There's a scent that isn't his own; faint, as if the person who carries it had left a few hours ago, but there's a hint of sweetness to it that automatically has Steve's eyes fluttering shut and a rumble building in his chest. It's making his brain fuzzy, so Steve quickly shakes it off. 

The last thing Steve remembers is sitting on the sofa in his hotel room, Sam in the adjacent room already asleep. They've been looking for Bucky for a few weeks now, always on his tail but nowhere near catching him. Steve had been watching TV, half-asleep already, when that sweet scent had entered his nostrils and everything had gone dark. Steve knows what that scent is. 

The door to the room opens and a switch is flipped, lighting the room up and causing Steve to squeeze his eyes shut against the sudden onslaught. He desperately blinks the black spots out from his eyes, managing to make out a figure at the door. The door closes, the lock clicking into place, and Steve finally manages to make out who's in the room with him, and his throat goes dry.

"Bucky?"

Bucky looks much the same as he did when Steve last saw him, almost a month ago - his hair is hanging around his face, but it's thicker now, less greasy, like he's been taking care of it. He's wearing black tactical gear, different from his getup on the helicarriers. His left arm is covered, his face obscured by that mask, no shiny buckles in sight. This suit is for stealth, Steve realises. The only thing that breaks the picture of a perfect spy is the scent.

"You're in heat," Steve realises. Bucky doesn't respond, but he takes off his mask, and it must have been covering his scent glands because Steve is hit with a wave of pheromones, sticky sweet and intoxicating. He leans as far forward as he can in the chair, automatically trying to seek Bucky out. Bucky walks across the room on silent feet, crouching in front of Steve. His gaze is curious, lips pursed in a slight frown.

"Who do you work for?" 

Bucky's voice is raspy from disuse, his stare intense. It takes a second for Steve to register the question.

"What?"

Bucky's gaze doesn't waver. "You've been following me. I know you have. You want to take me in. Who would you be taking me in to?"

"I don't work for anyone," Steve protests. "Bucky, you're my friend."

"It can't be Hydra," Bucky muses, ignoring him. "They sent me to kill you. Are you AIM? FBI? European Intelligence?"

"Nobody sent me," Steve says, trying to blink the fog from his mind. Bucky's scent is surrounding him, filling up the room with no way to escape, and he wants to break free of his restraints, pull Bucky into his embrace, lick his glands, slide inside his body. He remembers like yesterday how Bucky felt clenching around him, how his slick tasted so sweet, how he cried when Steve lapped over his clit. "Bucky, it's _me_."

"If nobody sent you, why are you here?" Bucky demands.

"You're my _friend_ ," Steve repeats, almost begging now. "Buck, I'm here because I care about you. I want to help you."

"What about your friend, back at the hotel?" 

"He's helping me."

"And what will you do when you finally catch me?"

Steve clenches his jaw. "Take you home."

Bucky rises from his crouch, and the movement sent another wave of scent into the air. It's different this time - stronger. When Steve looks closer and sees the black fabric encasing Bucky's thighs is wet, he tries once more to break free of his restraints, a high-pitched whine escaping him. 

"What were they thinking," Bucky murmurs, stepping forward to place a metal finger under Steve's chin and tilt his head up, "sending an unmated Alpha to find me? Did they think you'd be able to control me?" His lips twisted into a scowl, and his finger is gone. Steve desperately tries to chase that contact, getting pulled back by the cuffs. 

"Nobody sent me," Steve repeats weakly, and Bucky scoffs.

"I don't remember you," Bucky says, sending a shard of glass straight through Steve's heart. "And if you were telling the truth, if you and I did know each other, you shouldn't be here. I've seen the files, I know how long I was Hydra's captive. If you truly did know me from before, you should either be seventy years older, or dead." He pulls something out of his gear, and Steve's heart sinks at the glint of metal. "So I'm going to ask nicely, one more time." He steps forward and presses the tip of the blade against the centre of Steve's collarbone. "Who sent you?"

"I was frozen," Steve tries. "I was found a couple of years ago."

Bucky smiles, a cruel twist of lips, and steps forward again. "Have it your way."

The blade presses into his skin, just enough to draw blood, and Bucky drags it down, slowly. It burns, and Steve grits his teeth against the feeling of his skin being sliced open and the way it's trying to knit itself back together. The blade easily slices through Steve's shirt, and Bucky doesn't stop until he's carved a line from Steve's throat all the way down to his sternum. Steve's gasping for breath already, his shirt sliced through and blood gleaming on his skin. The top of the cut's already healed, and Bucky's eyes flash.

"You're like me."

Before Steve can answer, Bucky places the dull side of the knife to the swell of Steve's pec, and he shivers at the cold metal against his skin. With one swift flash, Steve's shirt is fluttering to the ground, cut clean through the middle. Steve needs to close his eyes for a second - Bucky's scent is filling his nose, sending his hindbrain into overdrive, and the pain of the knife scorches his skin, his overheated body getting covered with even hotter blood. Bucky grips Steve's hair and forces his head up, pressing the knife to Steve's throat. Steve gasps, both in fear and arousal. Bucky's eyes are dark, the only sign the heat is affecting him, but his hand is steady as it swipes the knife across Steve's cheek, the skin breaking and blood trickling down and dripping off his jaw.

"Bucky," Steve rasps. "Please."

Bucky hums, considering, and tugs on Steve's hair a bit more. Steve's eyes flutter shut, and an honestly pathetic whine escapes his throat. It hurts, yes, but it hurts the same way Bucky's knife hurts - almost an aphrodisiac, combining with that sweet scent and causing Steve to fall further under Bucky's spell. His cock is aching and hard in his pants, his instincts howling and urging his body to throw Bucky to the floor, to mount him and give him the bite that they'd been planning since 1941.

"Who are you working for?" Bucky hisses, and cuts a long, diagonal stripe from Steve's left shoulder to just under his right pec. This one's deeper than the others, and it causes Steve to gasp, and unconsciously release his own scent. Bucky stiffens up, inhaling deeply, and his eyes flicker to Steve's pants. "Why do you smell..."

"Familiar?" Steve's voice is wrecked, and he sees Bucky swallow. "I was telling the truth. We were lovers, Buck. We planned, after the war, that we were going to run away together. I'd give you my bite."

Bucky snarls, and suddenly his body is right up against Steve's, his hand sliding back into Steve's hair to grip it mercilessly. The knife digs into Steve's side, and he feels the white-hot trickle of blood slide down his hip. "You're lying."

Steve lets his head loll to the side, exposing his neck in submission. "You know I'm not."

Bucky shudders, the knife falling from his grip, and leans down to press his face into the curve of Steve's neck, and inhales. His body melts against Steve's, a high-pitched whine escaping, and Steve lets out a low rumble in response. Bucky pulls back, his eyes wild, and snaps the restraints holding Steve to the chair with his metal hand. Steve immediately pounces, slamming Bucky into the ground and gripping his wrists in his hands. Before he can lean down to scent him Bucky snarls and throws Steve off him, grabbing the knife off the ground. Steve tries to get up, but Bucky straddles his hips and pins him, the knife at his throat.

"You don't move," Bucky snarls, and Steve growls back at him. He hasn't felt this alive in years - his Omega spitting mad and aroused above him, the knife digging into his throat, the stench of heat surrounding them and whipping Steve into a frenzy. He feels his brain going fuzzy with pre-rut, and it takes all of his willpower to do as his Omega says, to stay where he is.

Bucky slips off his body, growling when Steve reaches out to him with a whine, and quickly starts unbuckling his boots. He kicks them to the side and rips his pants off, the scent intensifying even more, and Steve has to dig his fingers into the cut on his side to stop himself from moving. Bucky's arousal is obvious, his clit fat and red, his labia swollen. Steve can see the gleam of slick on his thighs, and the urge to sit up and lap up all that liquid gold, to put his mouth to Bucky's clit and slip his tongue into his hole, is almost unbearable.

Bucky doesn't bother taking the top half of his suit off, and instead leans down and rips Steve's sweatpants down enough to get his cock out. It's angry red, almost purple, Steve's knot already half-formed. Steve reaches out, can't help it, and scrabbles at Bucky's tac vest, trying desperately to see more of him. Bucky tries to slap his hand away, but not before Steve grips the Kevlar in his hands and tears through it like tissue paper, showing off all of that pale, gorgeous skin, slashed up from old scars that weren't there during the war. 

Bucky straddles Steve's hips again, reaching back to line them up, before slamming down onto Steve's cock with enough force that Steve arches off the ground with a scream. Bucky's shaking above him, his eyes glazed, and Steve needs to reach out, needs to touch, so, with a shaking hand, he presses his palm to the V of Bucky's hips. Bucky lets out a full-body shudder, leans down to rest his hands on Steve's chest, and starts to move.

It's brutal, the way Bucky uses Steve's body for his own pleasure. The concrete is frigid under Steve's back, his sweats bundled in a heap around his knees, Bucky's body on top of him, sweltering from the heat. It must be hell on Bucky's knees, the way the concrete would be ripping his skin to shreds, but he fucks himself on Steve's cock with single-minded desperation, his hair bouncing around his face and eyes still with that glaze to them. Steve attempts to meet every one of Bucky's bounces, thrusting up and making Bucky's body jolt with every snap of his hips, and Bucky's nails are digging into his pecs, drawing blood and adding to the dark red mural across Steve's body. On one thrust Bucky throws his head back with a loud whine, and Steve _snaps_.

He grabs Bucky on either side of his ribcage and flips them, slamming Bucky into the ground. He hears the crack of Bucky's skull against the concrete, and when he curls his hand around the back of his neck Bucky's hair is matted with blood, but Bucky just arches his back off the concrete and spreads his legs, moaning loudly when Steve slams his cock back inside that wet, tight hole. The rut's got a proper hold on him now, sending his blood roaring through his ears and all of his instincts screaming, his cock throbbing and balls drawn up tight to his body. Bucky grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him down, pressing his nose to Steve's scent glands and taking a deep breath, his nails raking down Steve's back and leaving white-hot blood trails in their wake. Steve grips Bucky's hair in one hand, his other pinning Bucky's hips to the ground, and leans down to mouth across Bucky's glands. He smells so good, so sweet, like caramel and sex and blood, and Steve so desperately wants to bite down.

Bucky tightens up around him, and Steve's vision temporarily whites out. He can feel his knot growing, brushing against Bucky's hole with every thrust, and just as it's getting so big there's no way it'd be able to fit, Steve slams deep, his knot popping past the entrance of Bucky's hole. Bucky _screams_ , his hole spasming around Steve's cock and body thrashing as he comes, his scent turning almost burnt in its intensity. Steve greedily breathes in the smell, pressing kitten licks to Bucky's glands and reaching down to rub his clit as Bucky shudders through his orgasm. He's dangling on the precipice himself, his knot about to pop and his balls drawn up so tight it's almost painful. Then Bucky rolls his body against Steve's, moving his cock inside him, and Steve's tipped over the edge.

He must black out, because when he wakes Bucky's back on top, grinding down on Steve's knot. His eyes are wild, his hair sticking to his face with sweat and blood, and he's the most beautiful thing Steve's ever seen. 

They couple several more times - it could be hours, it could be days, Steve has no idea. He buries his face between Bucky's legs and laps at his clit and hole until Bucky squirts, he fucks Bucky against the wall, against the chair, into the floor. Bucky presents for him, then flips them over and rides Steve until he forgets his name, then sits on Steve's face and grinds down on Steve's greedy tongue. The concrete rubs their skin raw, and they wrap around each other in puddles of their own blood, Bucky gnawing on his neck with a single-minded focus. Steve's lost in a blur of rut and his mate's heat, the pain of his injuries making him feel everything so vividly, whipped into a frenzy by Bucky's scent and the way he clenches around Steve's cock. Eventually, the rut lets its hooks out of Steve's body, and he curls himself around his Omega's body and falls asleep right there in a puddle of blood and slick and come, his knot cradled in wet heat and their joined scents wrapped around their joined bodies.

When he wakes up, Sam's standing over him with a terrified look on his face, and Bucky's scent hangs stale in the air.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually love this so much, it might be one of my favourite fics. I'm definitely going to be continuing this one.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr!](https://wayward-lives.tumblr.com)


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